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The old Photo

Day One
It was a strange photo. I was at an auction together with my Dad. He loved old things that he could fix, and make them look like the time they were new. Antiques have charm. Modern things look the same and you can see they are mass-produced. You can see the small details and the love of things that people put in things in the past. I know that many would say that antiques smell and look old. But I like them just as much as Dad and was allowed to go with him to auctions.

There was nothing that Dad was interested in. He said the most of it looked like it came from a junkyard. It was when he was speaking with one of his old friends that I saw the photo. It was a photo of a man and girl posing. The man had a big mustache and a sable, while the girl was in an old Victorian white dress, and was leaning against her father’s knee. She was kneeling on the ground, most likely so her father looked bigger than she did. There was something strange about this picture. I showed it to Dad. He explained that it was not a rare picture. It was the Russian Princess Anastasia and her Dad. He told me that the Russian Communists killed them after a civil war. I think we heard about this at school.

I kept looking at the picture. This confused Dad. He asked me what was so special about it. I said that there was just something special about the princess, but I could not figure out what it was, I tried to explain that she was scary, but at the same time, she was royal. Dad looked at the picture and looked more confused. The only thing he thought was scary about it was the frame that was large, heavy and silver.

The auction started, and I just watched people bidding for things. I had a game in my head where I guessed how much a thing would cost. That’s something that not all 11-year-olds can. I am not boasting that I guessed every time, but sometimes I guessed the right price. Dad was not bidding that night, because as said he thought everything was junk.

Then it was the photo’s turn. It started at £10. No one bid on it. I sat straight in my chair. I don’t know why, but I wanted the picture to sell for more. It was like I was attached to the photo and had pride in it. But no-one bid and it was lowered to £5. That didn’t catch anyone interest. I mean people wanted something of value, and if a photo was being sold for so little, it was just junk. Then the auctioneer said it was being sold, and after three hits of the hammer it was sold. I looked around to see who purchased it. I couldn’t see anyone’s hands up.

Then I looked at Dad, He was smiling and said, “The picture is now yours”

When we got home, I showed Mum and my little sister the picture. They thought it was special, but could not agree that it was special enough to own. Mum even suggested that we put a picture of my sister and me in it. The frame looked so unique, that it would be a nice family photo.

I screamed and said no. I will keep the picture in my room.

I was tired, and I said goodnight to my family and went up to my room. I put the picture on my desk and just sat down staring at the princess. It was a shame that she didn’t live to be all that old. Imagine that she was shot in cold blood with her family. I imagined my family standing in front of a wall, and hundreds of bullets killing us.

While I was thinking this, I saw some pink stars circle the room. It was like I was on some cloud. The stars circled my bed and then became extra bright, so bright that I had to blink my eyes. I could see the stars go under my pillow and through the top of my dresser. Everything was glowing for a few minutes. Then as the light dimmed, I could see my bed, the bed covers have changed to ones with a unicorn and rainbow and flowers on it. What was the hell happening? Where did my football sheets go?

“I like those sheets,” a voice said to me. I started arguing with this voice that they were girl sheets and pillowcase. The voice just kept arguing back saying that I just had to deal with it. I couldn’t believe that I was arguing with a voice inside my head. I called down to Mum. When she came up, I pointed at the sheets. I didn’t say anything. I am sure she would say that it was a mistake, that they were my little sisters. I got a shock when she said it’s nice to see my bed made and to get ready for bed. The voice inside me was teasing me by saying she told me so.

The girl’s voice said to hurry up because she was tired. She said to go to the dresser and take out my pj. I whispered not to rush me. The voice was very loud and demanding. I was confused. I never experienced this before. To get some peace, I went over to the drawer and opened it. It had two nightdresses and a lot of tights. I was confused. Why were there nightdresses in my drawer?

“Do you expect me to sleep with boys Pj’s on?” The voice said

“You are not me, I am me. You are just a voice in my head. Leave me now”

The girl's voice didn’t leave. She kept on nagging me to put on the nightdress, as it wouldn’t kill me. I called out to Mum again. Then the girl’s voice laughed and reminded me that Mum will see nothing wrong. She is part of the magic. That means her mind is blurred between what is pretty on a boy and how a boy really should be dressed.

The girl was right. Mum came and helped me pick with what she called a pretty nightdress; she also advised that I put some lovely white tights on, as it would get cold that night. I looked at Mum in despair. How could she tell me to put on a “pretty” nightdress on? I picked one with frilly cloth down by the sleeves and a princess on it. The girl’s voice in me was happy and said that was much better.

I didn’t understand why this voice was inside me, and why Mum totally went nutty. I went down to the sitting room, thinking that Dad would protest, I mean most Dads don’t want their sons dressed in silly sissy clothes, do they? He just smiled at me and looked at the TV again. I shook his arm and asked could he not see I was dressed like a girl. For a second he looked confused and then with a more confident tone said that boys can also dress that way? What? I had a good mind to ring to Social Services and tell them my parents think its ok for a boy to wear girl clothes. The problem is that they would throw me in an insane institute and put a picture of me wearing a dress in the newspaper

I went to bed. I thought that the girl’s voice would be gone tomorrow.

Halfway through the night, I heard a whisper. “It’s Ok for a boy to wear girl panties. Don’t worry... Who will see it? Its ok, tomorrow you can go to school with girl panties, who will see them on you? You will be wearing trousers”

“What are you doing?” I asked the girls voice

“It’s called subliminal message. I am just conditioning your brain to accept what will happen to you”

“Well stop it! I can’t sleep”. The voice stopped and I closed my eyes. She was right; it wouldn’t actually matter if I wore panties to school. We had no gym and I would be wearing trousers. I wonder did they feel as good as a nightdress. I wonder would they be pretty on me. I feel asleep,

Day 2
The next morning, I jumped up to get the nightdress off. The voice was still there. She said good morning. I agreed it was a good morning. I was allowed to wear my boy clothes again.

“Nearly, “She said

“What do you mean nearly? Do you think I will be popular going to school just wearing girl clothes?”

“You can try to compromise. I am not used to wearing boy clothes. If we are to share the same body, at least you can try to please me a small bit”

“We are not sharing a body. This is my body. Only boy’s clothes go on this body”

“Well, you could try. Wear some panties. No one will see them.

As I started looking through the panties, my mind became more confused. They did feel nice, and they looked pretty. It would be a good joke that I was wearing them and nobody would be able to see. I started to put them on. The frilly parts were giving me sensations that I never had before. I read the writing in the heart, and it said “Daddy’s little girl”. I smiled at the thought. As I looked in the mirror, I could see this half nude girl looking back. The girl’s voice was asking me all the time how they looked. I said nothing thinking that she would shut up if I said nothing. But she kept on asking, and I said they looked fine, once I had boy clothes on them, it would be OK. As I put on my boy clothes, they felt like they were scratching my skin. There was no problem yesterday, so why was it like putting on a cactus. I didn’t tell the voice that boy clothes felt so bad; otherwise, she would have me going to school in a dress.

My little sister came in and said that I looked different. I went as white as a lamb thinking she could see that I was wearing panties. I just mumbled something to her like I usually do. She looked at the picture that we got last night. I explained that it was a Russian Princess and her Dad. My sister looked closely and asked me did I see that the princess had the same watch that I had. I looked closely at her hand, and it was right, she had the same watch as me. I never noticed that last night.

We rushed down to breakfast and told dad about the watch. Dad just laughed and said it was impossible because they didn’t have that type of watch them. We kept on arguing that she had it, which aroused his curiosity. He went up to my bedroom to examine the picture. When he came back down, he said, it looked like someone used photoshop to put the watch on, which is a shame, because now the picture is not so valuable.

I changed the subject telling Mum that I needed a haircut. She looked at me and starting saying that I do not need a haircut. Long hair looks nice on boys. My hair was so soft and had small curls, it shouldn’t be cut. Mum was reciting as if it was a poem. I thought about the girl’s voice in my head that repeated those sentences the night before. Did she also do the same with Mum?

Time went quickly and it was time to get our shoes on for school. When I looked at the place my old sneakers and other shoes were, I just saw a pair of boots and Mary Janes. Where were my shoes? Mum told me that they were my shoes and to hurry up, she didn’t want to hear any hassle from me this morning. I felt like crying. Then for the first time since this morning, the girl’s voice was back. She was advising me to wear the boots, as the trousers would hide them. As usual, the girl’s voice was right. If I wore the Mary Jane shoes, everyone would see they were girl shoes, hopefully, no one could see that the boots were girls.

My friends did notice the boots. I just tried making an excuse that they were cowboy boots, but they just laughed and Paul said that they looked like his sisters. The others started to say that they suited my long hair. I felt like crying, but the voice inside me said not to pay any attention to them, as they were just idiots. I was tired of arguing with her, so I just agreed, Deep down; I knew I looked like a half-baked sissy. They could just see my hair and my boots. They would have a field day if they saw the panties that I was wearing.

I went over to my best friend, Tim. He walked away. As much as I tried following him, he just went quicker. It was obvious that he did not want to speak or play with me.

Tomorrow I will wear my own things, as I didn’t want to be known as the school sissy.

When I came home, I had another surprise. My room was gone. Girl’s things replaced all my boys’ things. Girl colours, girl’s carpet, girl dresser, girl desk, and girl bed and girl's toys. The voice asked me what I thought about it.

MUM!!!! Mum started by asking why I was acting so strange lately? This is the way my room always looked, nothing was different.

“Can’t you see that it’s for girls? I am a boy! Why would I want girl things?”

“Listen, boys and girls can like the same colours and things. Just because your room looks like a girl’s room, doesn’t mean that you are a girl. It just means that your feminine side is stronger than your masculine side. We talked about this when you changed your room. Dad and I have accepted you the way you are.”

The way I am… That means sissy. The girl’s voice inside me asked did I think it was pretty. I told her to shut up, as I needed time to get used to it. I started playing with the dolls, but it was a strange experience, as I was not controlling my movements, I did not want to try different clothes on the dolls, and I did not want to comb their hair. It was like someone was controlling my body. The girl’s voice was very happy as if she was playing. It was like she was now taking over my body.

Then my sister came in. She was shocked that I had a girl’s room. She even asked me was I becoming a girl. I shouted no, but as I was saying this, I could not hear my voice. Instead, my voice said to play with the dolls. My sister and I played with the dolls, and then we coloured some rainbows. It was a strange experience; I could see and feel what we were doing. I just did not control what my hands were doing. It was like I was stuck in the back of my mind. The girl’s voice was now the one that was speaking while desperately, I was screaming to give me my body back. The only answer I got was from the girl saying that she was having fun for the first time in years and she wanted to play. I started screaming all I can that I didn’t want to play with dolls. I wanted my old clothes back. I wanted my old bedroom back. The only response I got from the girl in my mind was to leave her alone. I was being selfish that I did not allow her to have a bit of fun.

Things went quiet, as my sister got bored. She must have thought it was strange that her brother’s room was suddenly a girl’s room. She went around looking at everything. Then she grabbed the photo and showed me the photo. This time the princess had my football t-shirt on, I stared at the picture. Why was the princess wearing my clothes? I felt that I was about to faint because the picture was now weird. I decided to ask Dad. I rushed down to him and asked him did anything look strange in the picture. He said no. This confused me. How could he not notice that a princess had a watch on that wasn’t even invented then and on top of that was wearing football clothes? I looked at Dad, He wasn’t drunk.

That night, I put on a nightdress and tights without thinking about it. I also tried pinching myself. This could not have been true. Someone except my sister must have noticed the picture. I decided to look at the picture again. This time the princess was wearing my trousers. I knew they were my trousers because they were torn just below my knee. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The girl was looking more and more like a boy, while if I looked at myself in the mirror I was looking more and more like a girl.

I went to bed and counted the hearts on my pillowcase.

Day 3
The next day, I jumped out of bed and looked at the picture. Nothing changed. The princess was still wearing my clothes.

“She looks better with her own clothes on,” The girl’s voice said, “How do you like wearing a nightdress and tights?"

“I don’t know”

“Come on, be honest.”

“Well the worse bit is that I can feel a breeze going up my legs, it’s like I am on some pink cloud or something like that.”

“You feel free?”

“In some ways I do, but in other ways, I don’t. I have to remember that boys are not supposed to wear girl’s clothes”

“But what about when you wear boys clothes now? They scratch you and you feel as if they are smothering you?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Then that’s Ok, today you can wear panties and tights. They feel so smooth. You can also wear those pretty boots that you wore yesterday.”

Without noticing it, I already had these on and some clothes for school. The clothes were unisex clothes, so I looked like a tomboy when I looked in the mirror.

When I came back to my thoughts again, I was sitting down at my desk and was putting some mascara on. I tried to pull my hand away, but I couldn’t move my hand. I just stared at myself in the mirror putting makeup on. For every stroke of make-up, the more and more I looked like a girl. I couldn’t beat this force inside me that was taking over my body. The more I thought about it though, the less pale I looked and the more pretty I looked.

Needless to say, everyone at school thought that I looked different. That’s a good word to use because some comments were rude. My best friend even said I looked pretty enough to kiss. I told him that I was not gay.

At break time, some of my friends asked me to play football. I said yes. But the girl's voice said that she wanted to skip with the girls, No way was she going to do this. That was definitely something a sissy would do. Yet I found myself walking towards the girls and asking them if I could skip with them. Some of the girls laughed, and one girl said she admired me because most boys wouldn’t have the nerve to ask. I didn’t want to ask. Inside my head, I was yelling at the girl to let me have my body back and let me play football. She just giggled and said that it was her turn to control my body and skipping was good. No matter how hard I yelled or threatened her, it didn’t help. I was forced to play with other girls.

When I got home from school, I rushed up to my pink room and looked at the picture. The father was the same, but the girl in the picture now had my watch, my t-shirt, my jeans and now my hair. She only had her face left. I felt like I was totally alone. If I asked dad or Mum, they would not notice anything. My sister would notice, but who would take what she had to say seriously.

I decided to go to bed. Would anyone notice if I went to bed in a nightdress and tights, with mascara on?

Day 4
The next day, I saw the girl get out of bed. The girl went out. What was she doing in my bed?

After 20 minutes, she came back again. She took a shower.

Then she started putting clothes on. She put on the panties and tights that she had on the day before. But today she put on a denim dress. She looked quite hot. She put her hair in a ponytail and put makeup on.

Then she looked at me.

“Now you can be yourself, “ she said, “ Today I will use what magic I have left and make everyone believe that I always was a girl. I see you when I get home. By the way, don’t you think I look chic today?”

“Anastasia, it’s time for breakfast. “ My mother called.

Then my sister ran into the room. She told Anastasia that it was time for breakfast. Then she came up to me and stared.

“Anastasia?”

“Yes?”

“I swear there was a girl in this photo yesterday. Ah well.”

They both ran out and I realized what happened.

I was stuck in the picture